Hero X Villain Community - Tumblr Posts
Short Prompt #1263
CW: captivity.
Sidekick had always wondered what secrets their mentor kept hidden, but the one mystery that never left their mind was the door.
Down in the depths of the base, at the end of a long hallway, it stood ominously. Only a few times had the sidekick been courageous enough to go near it, and the very last one still terrified them.
A voice had sounded on the other side, whimpering and crying. Sidekick had never ran so fast in their life.
But now... they knew they had to do something about it. Confronting Hero was out of the question, so it was time for the ace they'd been keeping up their sleeve.
The sidekick's second power, intangibility, would be perfect for saving whoever was trapped down there.
Pinned
(Mild blood/injury description)
The hero had put up a good chase, but not good enough.
And so Villain sat, pinning them to the forest floor. The face of the hero beneath them was scrunched up and they were breathing heavy, both probably after effects of the pursuit and subsequent collision with the ground.
“That little chase certainly wore you out,” the villain taunted as they watched the rapid rise and fall of the hero’s chest.
The hero did not waste precious oxygen replying the villain, instead training their eyes on the lush canopy above them.
The villain opened their mouth to continue their mocking of the defeated hero, but something stopped them.
They felt a touch of dampness, and looked down to see blood seeping from under the hero’s clothes into the villain’s pant legs.
Well that was interesting.
“Where’d you get that?”
“It’s not a good fucking day for this,” the hero groaned, throwing their head back and disturbing a collection of dead pine needles in the process.
“Hm. Too bad.”
The villain focused their gaze on the blood-soaked waistband directly beneath them. Their calculating eyes scanned the stains to look for slashes that might indicate where exactly the blood was coming from. This was made difficult as the hero continued to struggle and wince beneath their weight.
“You’re gonna make it worse,” the villain pointed out in a neutral tone, their grip tightening in a silent warning.
The hero seemed to finally accept this, letting their head fall back into the dirt, resignation etched into their face as they pointedly avoided looking at the villain atop them.
Once the villain was convinced they had truly stopped struggling, they lifted their hips to sit a few inches further back towards the hero’s legs, taking pressure off the wound.
The hero let out a sigh of relief, but otherwise didn’t acknowledge the move.
When reinforcements finally arrived, the villain took the time to properly inspect the hero’s wound. Held between two henchmen and hauled to their feet, the hero glared defiantly at the villain as they approached.
The villain paid the scowl no mind as they lifted up the fabric of the hero’s shirt to reveal a significant stab wound in their lower abdomen. The bleeding had already slowed, and it appeared from the layer of crust and dried crimson mixing with a fresher red that it had been at least a few hours since the injury was acquired.
The villain knew they certainly were not responsible, as you typically don’t sustain a clean stab wound from twigs and rocks in the forest.
They didn’t bother to question the hero about it again, knowing their response would be something along the lines of ‘go to hell.’
It didn’t matter, the villain would find out who had laid hands on their hero one way or another.
A Rescue?
Hero was almost out of time.
Flames were licking at their heels as they turned, eyes burning and lungs quickly filling up with smoke as they narrowly avoided falling debris. They doubled over then tried running low, desperately searching for the exit. Silver caught their eye across the room, and they recognized it as the trim on the door they had come through.
Finally, after what felt like hours, Hero collapsed over the entrance threshold. A rescue worker was waiting, and Hero felt relief crash over them like a violent wave.
Only, Hero realized through watering eyes, the worker wasn’t in uniform.
They blinked, suddenly realizing the presence in front of them was yet another threat and not a helpful rescuer.
Villain.
“Oh I’m so dead.”
To their credit, Hero stepped forward anyway, landing a solid punch before they lost their footing and were dragged back against a solid chest.
Having just stumbled out of a burning building, the remainder of their energy was currently being spent coughing up smoke they had inhaled while desperately trying to find their escape. Thus, they could do nothing when their opponent spun around them, their reactions too sluggish and weak. They were held across the chest with their arms pinned to their sides. It wasn’t a great grip, but it didn’t have to be. They slumped in the hold.
“Rip.”
The villain chuckled, their chest lightly rumbling against the hero’s back.
“Don’t go writing your will just yet,” they replied while they shifted their grip to sling the hacking hero up over their shoulder.
“W-wh air,” Hero paused for a much needed breath. “Where are we going?”
They were lightheaded from the coughing fit, or maybe it was the upside down position they found themselves in now.
“Nowhere your pretty little head needs to be worried about.”
Despite themselves, Hero couldn’t help but act as if they believed them, closing their eyes and feeling the adrenaline drain out of them. It wasn’t like they could see anything but their enemy’s back anyway.
They were jostled with every step, adding to the discomfort of their burns and searing lungs.
Utterly exhausted, it took Hero a second to recognize the red and white lights that started flashing on the other side of their eyelids. Suddenly the world was tilting again and air fled their lungs as they were slammed down onto a suspiciously soft surface. Their eyes flew open, and they saw Villain hovering above them. They went to sit up, but a hand landed on their shoulder from behind.
“Relax,” Villain spoke, removing his hands from the blue sheets and retreating from the bed. Hero whipped their head around, trying to identify where they had landed.
They were lying on a stretcher, ambulance at their back. Before they knew it, a clear mask was descending upon their face. They felt the subtle gust of air over their nose and mouth and breathed in the oxygen the paramedic was providing.
In front of them, Villain was walking away, leaving Hero discarded in the hands of emergency personnel.
The hero’s mind spun, but their thoughts felt as if they were still clouded with smoke.
They were…safe?
As the EMTs took them away, they realized with a start that they had been caught at their weakest.
And then Villain let them go.
A Rescue?
Hero was almost out of time.
Flames were licking at their heels as they turned, eyes burning and lungs quickly filling up with smoke as they narrowly avoided falling debris. They doubled over then tried running low, desperately searching for the exit. Silver caught their eye across the room, and they recognized it as the trim on the door they had come through.
Finally, after what felt like hours, Hero collapsed over the entrance threshold. A rescue worker was waiting, and Hero felt relief crash over them like a violent wave.
Only, Hero realized through watering eyes, the worker wasn’t in uniform.
They blinked, suddenly realizing the presence in front of them was yet another threat and not a helpful rescuer.
Villain.
“Oh I’m so dead.”
To their credit, Hero stepped forward anyway, landing a solid punch before they lost their footing and were dragged back against a solid chest.
Having just stumbled out of a burning building, the remainder of their energy was currently being spent coughing up smoke they had inhaled while desperately trying to find their escape. Thus, they could do nothing when their opponent spun around them, their reactions too sluggish and weak. They were held across the chest with their arms pinned to their sides. It wasn’t a great grip, but it didn’t have to be. They slumped in the hold.
“Rip.”
The villain chuckled, their chest lightly rumbling against the hero’s back.
“Don’t go writing your will just yet,” they replied while they shifted their grip to sling the hacking hero up over their shoulder.
“W-wh air,” Hero paused for a much needed breath. “Where are we going?”
They were lightheaded from the coughing fit, or maybe it was the upside down position they found themselves in now.
“Nowhere your pretty little head needs to be worried about.”
Despite themselves, Hero couldn’t help but act as if they believed them, closing their eyes and feeling the adrenaline drain out of them. It wasn’t like they could see anything but their enemy’s back anyway.
They were jostled with every step, adding to the discomfort of their burns and searing lungs.
Utterly exhausted, it took Hero a second to recognize the red and white lights that started flashing on the other side of their eyelids. Suddenly the world was tilting again and air fled their lungs as they were slammed down onto a suspiciously soft surface. Their eyes flew open, and they saw Villain hovering above them. They went to sit up, but a hand landed on their shoulder from behind.
“Relax,” Villain spoke, removing his hands from the blue sheets and retreating from the bed. Hero whipped their head around, trying to identify where they had landed.
They were lying on a stretcher, ambulance at their back. Before they knew it, a clear mask was descending upon their face. They felt the subtle gust of air over their nose and mouth and breathed in the oxygen the paramedic was providing.
In front of them, Villain was walking away, leaving Hero discarded in the hands of emergency personnel.
The hero’s mind spun, but their thoughts felt as if they were still clouded with smoke.
They were…safe?
As the EMTs took them away, they realized with a start that they had been caught at their weakest.
And then Villain let them go.
HOT TO GO
It was easy enough for Villain to stalk Hero into the club. The lights, loud music, and number of people meant the villain could get close. Close enough, apparently, that Hero invited them to dance.
A new song had just started, and the people on the floor had spaced out as best they could, the people on the outskirts squishing together to make room. The shift had left about an arms length to the side between everyone on the dance floor.
“You look a little lost, honey,” spoke a sweet voice from behind them.
It was only then that Villain realized how stiff they must have been, standing alone while everyone around them was partaking in a dance they didn’t know.
“Want me to show you?”
Villain nodded, not wanting to risk their voice being recognized, even over the damagingly loud song. They certainly weren’t going to pass as a party-goer if they refused.
Hero stepped forward, taking Villain’s hands in their own. They were pressed front to back, and Villain could feel every steady breath through the hero’s chest.
When the next chorus hit, they raised both hands above their heads, forming two parallel lines. Next, they pulled down gently, bending both Villain’s arms slightly, rounding out the lines. Just as suddenly, their arms were pulled out to their sides, as wide as Hero’s wingspan would go. Fingers intertwined, their arms bounced once.
“~H-O-T-T~”
Villain stared straight ahead, scared to do anything but leave their arms limp in Hero’s sure hands.
Their hands were lifted once again, going round, then pulling one down and breaking the symmetry before going round again.
“~O-G-O~”
One hand was dropped as Hero spun them around before renewing their grip. Looking directly into their eyes, Hero led their hands to point in front of them, one by one.
“~You can take me~”
Bright neon lights flashed across the Hero’s face, and Villain hoped it was enough to obscure their features. In some strange mix of the YMCA dance and the macarena, Hero used their hands to cross Villain’s arms over their chest before slowly dragging them down. The descent was agonizing, especially when Hero’s knuckles brushed Villain’s hips and their breath caught.
“~Hot to go~”
Villain was twirled again and, mesmerized by the movement, they didn’t even realize why Hero had pulled both hands back instead of up. Hero’s chin laid to rest on Villain’s shoulder, breath hot on their ear when they muttered, “I might just take you ‘hot to go’.”
By the time cool metal clamped over their wrists, it was far too late for the villain to struggle.
“If only you could dance.”
They pulled away sharply, hauling Villain through the crowd and towards the exit.
“Maybe, you can practice in prison.”
Villains I dont see very often; mute. Mute villains are the best, nothing can convince me otherwise.
One idea thats been on my mind is a mute villain confessing to the hero, either through sign language, or a perfectly executed scheme. You’re choice :))
Not sure if this counts, but I ran with it. Might try this again after I gather some ASL knowledge. Hope you enjoy :)
A Silent Movie
It wasn’t exactly easy to get Hero sat in front of the cinema screen. In fact, the planning for this trap had taken over sixth months. Not to mention the money it took to buy this building off foreclosure, and the multitude of investments into Hero-proofing the location.
It was even harder to get said hero to stop yelling long enough to pay attention to the image being projected from the back of the room. Not that their sense of hearing was needed for this experience, but Villain imagined Hero would appreciate the lack of noise-based distractions, including sounds they themselves were making.
The theater was notably large, probably the most expensive showing room of its day. That is to say, the upholstery was a little outdated. The popcorn had been swept off the floor, the swirling carpet surprisingly clean. The velvet of the seats did not appear stained, and the cupholders were absent of any discarded snacks or tickets.
The glow of the emergency exit lights were the only thing illuminating the room, and they revealed a dim image of the hero situated in the center of the third row, which was optimal seating in the villain’s opinion.
Clearly, Hero did not agree, considering how hard they were pulling at the restraints to try and exit their carefully selected theater chair.
It was futile, of course, and the hero finally stopped straining when the villain appeared a row below them, quiet as a mouse, standing with a finger pressed to their lips.
Villain retreated when the hero quieted, letting their attention shift to the screen and this special showing. Images flicked past, and Hero became engrossed in the story unfolding on the screen.
Shown was a news reel Hero recognized as the time Villain had crashed their Election Day speech. A zoomed out map of the city, marking City Hall with a red square. Grainy footage of two figures dancing around next to a dumpster. Once again the map appeared, now with two squares pasted on top. The pattern continued, and Hero was amazed.
It was an agglomeration of every moment they had spent together, every public battle, every nighttime-shady-alley encounter.
There was only one reason to collect these momentos, these reminders. It had all meant something to the villain.
The complete lack of kernels on the carpet certainly pointed to a level of dedication and commitment to this scheme.
Maybe, they were hoping it meant something to the hero, too.
Another scene zoomed out a final time, revealing all the markers spread across the city. Only, now, Hero noticed, a rather distinct pattern had formed.
Villain moved like a phantom, appearing again, this time at the hero’s side. The ropes at their wrists fell away like magic while Hero gazed at the awkwardly hovering villain. They presented the hero with a glittering object hung from a chain held loose around their fingers. It was a large ruby gem, expertly cut into the shape of a 3-D heart.
Stolen, no doubt, Hero suspected possibly from the large jewelry exhibition that had just entered town.
The screen flashed bright, and lit up the hero’s face as it contorted in surprise. They processed the scene as fast as they could.
A heart of red markers, a heart of ruby, a heart fluttering in their chest, a heart laid open in front of them.
“Oh,” Hero breathed, “Oh.”
Villain sucked in a breath.
This was it, this was the moment they got rejected because they couldn’t-
“I had no idea.”
Of course they didn’t know, it’s not like Villain had ever spoken about it.
Preparing automatically for the rejection, Villain started to withdraw their hand, cold-as-steel demeanor returning to them with all the familiarity of a security blanket.
It was so stupid of them to think that they deserved any kind of reciprocation, so stupid to think that the hero could possibly-
The hero snatched the charm from their fingers before they fully withdrew.
“I didn’t say no,” they spoke softly, and the villain’s heart skipped a beat.
They reached out their other hand, wrapping their fingers over the still-outstretched hand of the villain. Instead of elaborating, Hero pulled the frozen criminal closer, connecting their lips in a gentle proclamation.
Actions spoke louder than words anyway.
Hero and Villain Go to a Pumpkin Patch
Hero gazed out into the countryside through the open top of the trailer. As Yelp had promised, there were gourds galore spread out over the many fields and rolling hills. The tractor pulling them steadily chugged along, filling the air with engine noises and a slight gas smell that had Villain plugging their ears and wrinkling their nose.
Naturally, they were both on a hay ride, on their way to a pumpkin farm, as enemies often are at the start of this season.
“Why is there so much hay!” Villain grumbled, tossing some into the air in frustration as they pulled at the pieces that were stuck to them.
Hero mercifully decided not to mention that that was the whole idea of a hay ride, instead pointing out, “You’re the one that insisted on wearing a cape to a farm.”
“For the last time, it’s a cloak,” Villain stressed, rising up slightly to attempt to shake off the pesky straw velcroing itself to their attire.
“Nice try, you don’t have a hood.”
Hero tugged Villain off their knees, lest they get in trouble for standing up
The rest of the ride included Villain unsuccessfully shifting and picking at their clothes while Hero, quite helpfully, made sure some pieces landed in the other’s hair before they departed the trailer.
After that, it was a quick bee-line to the collection of squash and pumpkins laid out on a lot of colored wood chips. Hero insisted on a picture, plopping down on a large and plump orange pumpkin to pose in front of the villain.
“I thought heroes don’t break rules?” Villain asked, smirking.
Hero defended automatically, “I’m not breaking any-”
Villain pointed to one of the clearly displayed signs reading “no sitting on pumpkins” in large red print.
“Oh.”
Villain snapped a picture just in time to capture the pumpkin collapsing into a heap of seeds and chunks beneath Hero.
…
“I still can’t believe that pumpkin cost 300 dollars.”
“Well, you wouldn’t have had to find out if you didn’t destroy it.”
Hero’s mouth formed a line as they pointedly looked away from the all-too amused criminal.
“Your face was priceless by the way,” they continued, much to the chagrin of their enemy.
Hero cut a glare that would make any villain proud.
“There’s a place for a better photo,” Villain consoled, pointing towards a board with the painted bodies of a farmer family, immediately regretting it when they clocked the expression on the Hero’s face.
After handing their camera off to a random patron, Hero and Villain found themselves at the back of the board. Hero immediately headed for the tallest hole, rising up onto their tiptoes to be seen from the front. When they realized Villain wasn’t stepping forward, they directed them to the lowest hole.
“That one will work,” they gestured, before returning to face the camera.
Reluctantly, Villain kneeled down in place for the photo.
When they got it back, Hero’s smiling face was plastered on that of a flannel-clad man with a pitchfork, holding his faceless family close in a field of hard-earned pumpkins. And Villain, with their face filling the hole of the dog at the bottom.
Relentlessly, Hero skipped towards a building with a line winding around to a small serving window.
Following, Villain scanned the sign and gaped.
Hero turned to them, eyes sparkling as they requested, “I’d like an apple cider, please!”
“I am not paying 30 dollars for inferior apple juice.”
Villain crossed their arms.
“It’s not juice, it’s cider. Come on, have some fall spirit.”
Villain did not have any fall spirit, however they did now have a lighter wallet, a happier hero, and a hot chocolate for themselves.
They sipped slowly, watching steam curl and unfurl into the air above their novelty mug.
“I can’t understand why you like this season so much. It’s far too cold.”
“It’s all in the leaves, Villain,” Hero replied.
“The leaves. They’re…crunchy.”
“They’re beautiful.”
Hero tilted their head back, gazing up at the red, orange, yellow, and brown canopy. Villain followed their lead, watching the light stream through the gaps of the balding branches with the slightest sense of wonder. The wind picked up, and it was like the trees were sparkling. Rich colors rained down as the gust blew through.
Totally not beautiful at all.
The nemeses next found themselves at a table with a medium size pumpkin sitting in front of each of them. They had both been entrusted with a small array of carving tools, which they made quick use of cutting into the vegetable and scooping out seeds and guts.
Sufficiently covered in the remains of mutilated gourds, Hero glanced over from where they were carefully scraping at their logo carved into the side of their designated pumpkin. Their mouth fell open in horror at their enemy’s work.
Safe to say, Hero earned a blue ribbon, and Villain earned a lifetime ban from the carving contest.
The criminal and the crime fighter soon took to wandering the perimeter of the farm, following the fencing in front of the surrounding deciduous trees.
The wind blew and Villain rubbed at their arms and pulled their cape tighter around themselves.
“It’s too cold to be outside,” they complained, causing Hero’s head to whip towards them.
“Since when are you such a wimp? If you’re cold, just say so,” Hero challenged.
“Ok, I’m cold.”
“I have just the thing,” Hero replied cheerfully, reaching into their concerningly-large pocket and pulling out some knitted material.
“What…are those.”
“Mittens.”
“No. That,” Villain pointed to the woolen blob on top with an accusatory finger, “is an abomination.”
“It’s. A. Mitten.”
Hero spread out the knitted hand-warmers before them. Villain thought they were more likely to be mistaken for a failed crochet project.
“…why are there only three.”
A grin spread cheesily across the Hero’s face, a glint of mischief in their eyes.
“Couple gloves!”
Slow, painful realization overcame the Villain.
“No. Absolutely not. I am not holding your hand.”
“I thought you said you were cold?” Hero tilted their head, asking with seriousness, “Would you rather have your fingers fall off?”
That, in Villain’s opinion, was a gross exaggeration of the current temperature of their hands.
They did, however, relent when they realized how terrible it was to have an imbalance between their hands, one wrapped in wool and the other exposed to the cutting wind. Better to look dumb then waste a valuable asset like the feeling in their fingers, Villain rationalized.
Hero let them keep pretending that was the real reason their fingers stayed intertwined until it was time to go home.
———
A lot of these ideas are included in @thepenultimateword ’s Flufftober challenge. I started writing this before the challenge was posted, but it deserves some recognition, go check it out!
Hero and Villain Go to a Pumpkin Patch
Hero gazed out into the countryside through the open top of the trailer. As Yelp had promised, there were gourds galore spread out over the many fields and rolling hills. The tractor pulling them steadily chugged along, filling the air with engine noises and a slight gas smell that had Villain plugging their ears and wrinkling their nose.
Naturally, they were both on a hay ride, on their way to a pumpkin farm, as enemies often are at the start of this season.
“Why is there so much hay!” Villain grumbled, tossing some into the air in frustration as they pulled at the pieces that were stuck to them.
Hero mercifully decided not to mention that that was the whole idea of a hay ride, instead pointing out, “You’re the one that insisted on wearing a cape to a farm.”
“For the last time, it’s a cloak,” Villain stressed, rising up slightly to attempt to shake off the pesky straw velcroing itself to their attire.
“Nice try, you don’t have a hood.”
Hero tugged Villain off their knees, lest they get in trouble for standing up
The rest of the ride included Villain unsuccessfully shifting and picking at their clothes while Hero, quite helpfully, made sure some pieces landed in the other’s hair before they departed the trailer.
After that, it was a quick bee-line to the collection of squash and pumpkins laid out on a lot of colored wood chips. Hero insisted on a picture, plopping down on a large and plump orange pumpkin to pose in front of the villain.
“I thought heroes don’t break rules?” Villain asked, smirking.
Hero defended automatically, “I’m not breaking any-”
Villain pointed to one of the clearly displayed signs reading “no sitting on pumpkins” in large red print.
“Oh.”
Villain snapped a picture just in time to capture the pumpkin collapsing into a heap of seeds and chunks beneath Hero.
…
“I still can’t believe that pumpkin cost 300 dollars.”
“Well, you wouldn’t have had to find out if you didn’t destroy it.”
Hero’s mouth formed a line as they pointedly looked away from the all-too amused criminal.
“Your face was priceless by the way,” they continued, much to the chagrin of their enemy.
Hero cut a glare that would make any villain proud.
“There’s a place for a better photo,” Villain consoled, pointing towards a board with the painted bodies of a farmer family, immediately regretting it when they clocked the expression on the Hero’s face.
After handing their camera off to a random patron, Hero and Villain found themselves at the back of the board. Hero immediately headed for the tallest hole, rising up onto their tiptoes to be seen from the front. When they realized Villain wasn’t stepping forward, they directed them to the lowest hole.
“That one will work,” they gestured, before returning to face the camera.
Reluctantly, Villain kneeled down in place for the photo.
When they got it back, Hero’s smiling face was plastered on that of a flannel-clad man with a pitchfork, holding his faceless family close in a field of hard-earned pumpkins. And Villain, with their face filling the hole of the dog at the bottom.
Relentlessly, Hero skipped towards a building with a line winding around to a small serving window.
Following, Villain scanned the sign and gaped.
Hero turned to them, eyes sparkling as they requested, “I’d like an apple cider, please!”
“I am not paying 30 dollars for inferior apple juice.”
Villain crossed their arms.
“It’s not juice, it’s cider. Come on, have some fall spirit.”
Villain did not have any fall spirit, however they did now have a lighter wallet, a happier hero, and a hot chocolate for themselves.
They sipped slowly, watching steam curl and unfurl into the air above their novelty mug.
“I can’t understand why you like this season so much. It’s far too cold.”
“It’s all in the leaves, Villain,” Hero replied.
“The leaves. They’re…crunchy.”
“They’re beautiful.”
Hero tilted their head back, gazing up at the red, orange, yellow, and brown canopy. Villain followed their lead, watching the light stream through the gaps of the balding branches with the slightest sense of wonder. The wind picked up, and it was like the trees were sparkling. Rich colors rained down as the gust blew through.
Totally not beautiful at all.
The nemeses next found themselves at a table with a medium size pumpkin sitting in front of each of them. They had both been entrusted with a small array of carving tools, which they made quick use of cutting into the vegetable and scooping out seeds and guts.
Sufficiently covered in the remains of mutilated gourds, Hero glanced over from where they were carefully scraping at their logo carved into the side of their designated pumpkin. Their mouth fell open in horror at their enemy’s work.
Safe to say, Hero earned a blue ribbon, and Villain earned a lifetime ban from the carving contest.
The criminal and the crime fighter soon took to wandering the perimeter of the farm, following the fencing in front of the surrounding deciduous trees.
The wind blew and Villain rubbed at their arms and pulled their cape tighter around themselves.
“It’s too cold to be outside,” they complained, causing Hero’s head to whip towards them.
“Since when are you such a wimp? If you’re cold, just say so,” Hero challenged.
“Ok, I’m cold.”
“I have just the thing,” Hero replied cheerfully, reaching into their concerningly-large pocket and pulling out some knitted material.
“What…are those.”
“Mittens.”
“No. That,” Villain pointed to the woolen blob on top with an accusatory finger, “is an abomination.”
“It’s. A. Mitten.”
Hero spread out the knitted hand-warmers before them. Villain thought they were more likely to be mistaken for a failed crochet project.
“…why are there only three.”
A grin spread cheesily across the Hero’s face, a glint of mischief in their eyes.
“Couple gloves!”
Slow, painful realization overcame the Villain.
“No. Absolutely not. I am not holding your hand.”
“I thought you said you were cold?” Hero tilted their head, asking with seriousness, “Would you rather have your fingers fall off?”
That, in Villain’s opinion, was a gross exaggeration of the current temperature of their hands.
They did, however, relent when they realized how terrible it was to have an imbalance between their hands, one wrapped in wool and the other exposed to the cutting wind. Better to look dumb then waste a valuable asset like the feeling in their fingers, Villain rationalized.
Hero let them keep pretending that was the real reason their fingers stayed intertwined until it was time to go home.
———
A lot of these ideas are included in @thepenultimateword ’s Flufftober challenge. I started writing this before the challenge was posted, but it deserves some recognition, go check it out!
okay..so , some time ago I had read this specific hero x villain prompt that I absolutely loved.IT. sadly,i can't find it now. it did have these words in it tho:
You took off like a bat outta hell right after. ... I have a fluff prompt for you! The hero has been
if anyone finds this lovely post and has a link to the same please share it with me in the comments.
thanks!
Reblogging so more of you can find all these wonderful writers!!
Thank you @kaiwewi for the list and the mention :D
Hi! I’m looking for some more tumblr writing blogs similar to yours if you had any recommendations you’d be willing to share!
There are a lot of hero and villain writers on tumblr! @creweemmaeec11 has a whole community going, so may be more up to date than me!
(Sorry if this list misses anyone! It's by no means exhaustive.)
@gingerly-writing, @yourheartonfire, @thepenultimateword, @trappedgoose-in-a-writblr-room, @saltydumplings, @save-the-villainous-cat, @creweemmaeec11, @amethystpath-writes, @selene-stories, @some-messed-up-writing-for-you, @onestopheroxvillain, @booberryfun, @watercolorfreckles, @vigilantetendencies, @enemies-to-idiots-to-lovers, @nuttynutcycle, @defectivehero, @caffeinewitchcraft, @recklessfiction, @snowshowerwriting, @deckofaces
Anyone else who writes in the hero/villain, enemies to lovers, romance/fantasy ballpark, please feel free to add your name so people can find you!
Hello! (Alternatively titled, send me writing requests please!)
Ok I have been absent for like….a long while, which is partly the fault of the education system. Mostly the fault of it, honestly.
Anyways.
I’ve hit spring break, so I have two weeks of freedom, and that means writing (oh my god, writing). Naturally I have more free time, but I also have several 7 hour plane rides to contend with, and I have this extreme compulsion to write when on airplanes. My notes app will never know peace.
So, to anyone reading this who feels so inclined, please send me writing requests I beg of you (no writing advice asks right now please, I cannot do critical thinking)
Heroes villains sidekicks protag and antag, literally anything. I always enjoy writing asks!
Thank you!
As another request, maybe the villain and hero are fighting , and the villain notices that the hero reacts suspiciously numb to his attacks. And when he taunts him about it, the hero sisimply says something to the effect of being used to it. And the villain is suspicious by the tone so he follow the hero and find out he’s abused by family . Cue villain saving the hero, comforting him and showering him with the love he never got
The villain should have known something was wrong the first time he hit the hero, and he simply braced, pain flickering along the muscles of his jaw, before hitting back. Face blank, a mask stronger than concrete. As if pain played no part, and it was just the give and return of kinetic energy, and nothing more.
He should have known when he said something so cruel it felt like graveyard dirt upon his tongue, and the hero merely stuttered for half a second, everything within him freezing, before he continued like nothing had happened. Nothing cruel in return, nothing biting in his face. Just–complete nothing.
“You never flinch,” the villain said, and it wasn’t a sudden realization, but it was close. Again, that momentary pause, like the hero had been grabbed and stopped by some otherworldly being on a molecular level. It allowed the villain to catch the next hit the hero threw at them.
“What?”
The hero, to his credit, didn’t sound upset, and in this line of work the villain was especially good at noticing the tiny pieces of that kind of thing. He just sounded confused, maybe.
“When I hit you. You don’t flinch,” the villain clarified. The hero just stared at them.
“You only really flinch if you aren’t used to it,” the hero said finally.
“Used to it?”
“You heard me,” the hero replied, and this time, there was irritation behind his words.
The villain tossed the hero’s fist down, and the hero stumbled back.
“And you didn’t answer my question.”
“I wasn’t aware there was one.”
“Are you intentionally being annoying, or is it just natural for you?”
The hero’s breath shuddered.
“Sorry.”
“Sorry–you–I don’t want an apology,” the villain sputtered. This conversation felt above his pay grade; and he wasn't entirely sure why, either, which irked him, itching under his skin.
“So–” the hero snapped his jaw shut around the rest of the word, and it looked like he was doing everything in his power to stop himself from finishing it.
Before the villain could prod further–about the flinching, or any other confusing aspect of it–the hero blew out a breath, and said, “I’m done here.”
The villain blinked.
“You can’t just decide when a fight is over.”
“Watch me,” the hero said, but his voice didn’t have the heat that usually went along with that phrase.
“You’re a hero, isn’t this kind of your entire job? Finishing fights, not walking away from them?”
“I said, I’m done,” the hero snarled, and it was the first hint of emotion he had shown the entire day, explosive and aimed entirely at the villain. The villain was taken aback for a moment.
The hero turned and left before the villain could even think of a response. He didn’t look over his shoulder.
Of course, the villain followed him home.
The fact that he had been able to at all was something to be worried about.
He watched as the hero entered, shutting the door behind him. Heard the sound of his bag hitting the floor, his jacket being hung up. Normal, quiet little things. Shuffling through the kitchen, making a cup of tea. A quiet conversation with his mother.
The villain was about to leave when he heard the slap.
He was through the door before he realized he was moving, leaving the handle to slam into the wall.
He caught the barest edge of a conversation as he rounded the corner–a curse word, then a vile sort of thing that was somehow worse than anything the villain had managed to say in his entire life–and slotted himself neatly between the hero and his mother.
The villain caught her wrist before it could touch any part of the hero. His grip was too tight to be anything but painful.
The hero’s mother gaped at them.
A bruise was beginning to bloom across the hero’s cheek.
The hero was shaking, slightly, face tense and drawn as he stared at the villain. Like the villain was the unnerving thing in this situation, and the hand his mother still had raised was the normality.
A rage, raw and unfathomable, ravenous within him, descending down so deep into the white hot of fury that it passed anything that had a name, uncurled itself along his bones.
“Touch him again,” the villain seethed, voice shaking with all that feral untamed mess within himself, “and you lose the hand.”
“Villain,” the hero said quietly, and the villain had never heard him so meek.
How long did it take for a person to learn that kind of quiet?
“Villain, leave it.”
The villain didn’t release the hero’s mother’s–no. The woman in front of him wasn’t a mother. She was something twisted, and broken, and cruel, upper lip curled with displeasure. Not that the villain was within her kitchen; but that he had stopped her from hitting her child.
The villain wanted nothing more than to vomit on her spotless white tiles.
Maybe in another life she would have been the kind of person the hero, with his kind heart, would have saved before it got to this point.
Maybe in another life the villain would have let the hero try.
But that was not this life.
And there was a bruise blooming on his hero’s cheek.
“You have no right–”
“Did I not make myself clear?” He said, and it was black and poisonous in the air.
The woman in front of him swallowed, and for the first time, fear flickered across her face.
Good.
“Villain,” the hero said, voice strangled, and the villain turned to look at him.
“She’s hurt you before,” the villain said, and it wasn’t a question. The hero looked at him wide-eyed, and he wondered how many times the hero had walked into a fight with him with pre-existing injuries. Injuries he would pretend later that the villain had given him.
The hero swallowed, hard.
“Yes,” he whispered, and that was all the villain needed. He turned back around.
“The only reason you are alive right now is because I think killing you would upset him,” he informed her, and he watched her face pale. “That, and getting blood out of shoes is a bitch. Isn’t it, hero? See, you wouldn’t know. Nobody’s ever made you bleed, I’d wager, because if they had, you would understand it isn’t the kind of thing you do to someone you love.”
He grinned, feral.
“You’re going to leave,” he continued. “Matter of fact, you’re going to vanish. And you’re going to do it so well that if he wants, he’ll never have to think of you again. The only way you’ll ever see him again will be because he wants it to happen, do you understand me? If you don’t, we’ll make you vanish my way.”
The hero made a choked noise behind him. “I don’t think you’ll like that very much,” the villain confided in a whisper.
He wasn’t sure the woman in front of him was breathing.
“Hero,” he said after a long minute. He was going to leave bruises on her wrist. She was shaking, and it soothed some of the yawning rage within him. “Pack a bag.”
The hero vanished into the halls of the house.
The villain didn’t say anything, just stared at the woman in front of him, as if he looked long enough he would be able to see the rotten core inside of her that had made her this way. Turned her into something violent. Or perhaps, the thing that had been inside her since birth, broken and seething. Inevitable.
He didn’t like to believe people could be born evil.
He would make an exception.
The hero appeared back behind him as silent as a wraith, far faster than the villain had expected, duffel bag in one hand.
He wondered how long the hero had had a bag tucked away, packed and ready to run if it got too bad.
He wondered what the hero considered ‘bad enough’ and his jaw clenched hard enough he could hear the bones creak.
“That all you need?”
The hero nodded, mutely, and the villain finally dropped the woman’s hand. She pulled back, hissing as she rubbed her arm, but she had the sense to not glare at the villain.
He tipped his head towards the door.
“Let’s go,” he said, as gently as he had ever heard himself.
The hero followed him out, and they didn’t say anything until the villain’s apartment door locked behind the both of them.
The villain blew out a shuddering breath.
The hero looked like he wasn’t entirely there, eyes glassy.
“Hero,” he said softly, and the hero’s gaze snapped to his face. He stopped himself from reaching for him, a helpless effort to do something, to fix it. “Can I touch you?”
He made sure it didn’t sound like a demand, because if the hero said no, the villain would die before crossing that line, no matter how much it stung. A moment later, to his relief, the hero gave a jerky nod.
He moved slowly, a gentle palm on the hero’s jaw to tip it up, inspecting the bruise with pursed lips. He brushed away the tear that slipped down the hero’s cheek with his thumb, and left it there.
“It could be worse,” the hero offered quietly.
“The fact that it exists at all is worse enough,” the villain murmured, tipping the hero’s head back down. “I’m so sorry.”
The hero blinked, brow furrowing. “For what?”
The villain shrugged one shoulder. “That it happened. That it has been happening. That I didn’t notice.”
“I’m good at hiding it,” the hero said, like it was supposed to make the villain feel better.
“You shouldn’t have had to learn how to do that at all,” the villain said, and the hero’s lip wobbled.
The hero wavered slightly, like he didn’t know what to do with himself. He carried himself like the entirety of his body was an open wound, every second spent breathing a second spent in agony.
The villain couldn’t pretend he knew what this felt like, but he could do his best to soothe it as much as possible.
“Come here,” he said softly, and the hero melted into him, shaking as he tried to cry quietly and failed. He tucked the hero against his chest, and hand coming to curl into the hero’s hair as he let out a desperate keening noise.
He rested his chin on the top of the hero’s head. “It’s going to be okay,” he whispered. “It’s not right now, but it will be, I promise. Even if it takes a while.”
The hero shuddered against him, then nodded, just once.
It wasn’t okay, but it would be.
The villain had promised.
And he never broke a promise.
this is so lovely, I'd love for it to continue. I can picture the scenes and thoughts really nicely ^^
snippet #2 — constantly rotting
CW — depressed / burnt out henchman , bed rotting , mentioning of medications, dissociating
Henchman hasn't picked up any of the calls from the Villain lately and dear god, Villain was displeased.
And for a good reason, Henchman was the most trusted out of all henchmen in the organization with how well they perform and how they had stayed with the villain since the beginning.
so, how did it all change? They showed up less and less ever since That incident, even if Villain had called or visited them, they didn't have the energy to get out of their bed- their boss being unhappy with their lack of presence was reasonable.
all they do is rot in bed. constantly felt like they were only wasting their years.
Hell, Henchman doesn't even have enough money to live anymore so not only were they on the brink of getting fired or even considering retirement at this point but also getting kicked out of their own apartment.
This is stupid.
They were unemployed in their personal life and even if they did show up at work again, they felt nothing but guilt as others started to talk to them less or try to avoid them ever since. They didn't even know what they did wrong?
so every conversation they tried to take part in felt awkward because of that.
They looked around their room, everything was..a mess.
They sat up on their bed, looking down at their scar filled arms. Why are they even willing to devote themselves to a criminal, thus risking their own life?
many thoughts ran to their head until their phone started to ring again. another daily call from their boss, apparently.
they let it ring until it hung up on itself, while waiting so they finally got up, put on their uniform, and got ready.
if they had remembered correctly, they were called for a personal meeting upon stepping in the building.
And if Henchman was being honest, they were anxious. but at this point, do they even care what would happen to them? no.
–
Well, that didn't go well. for the henchman, at least.
It felt like a counseling session rather than a meeting and it took them back to when they were in highschool.
back to when they got so fucked up that they got sent to therapy and put into medications.
the villain was..worried, yet displeased. they not only had known each other for awhile on the job but they've also been close.
fuck, they felt even more terrible after they were dismissed. going back here was a mistake.
They were ordered to organize more paperworks and, even if the villain didn't say it directly, they didn't want to disappoint the villain even further so they got to work.
Now here they are, printing copies of the documents the villain gave, I mean, most of the time they were dissociating anyway.
nothing felt real at this point, they felt extremely disconnected from their body. almost as if their own body doesn't belong to them.
they wanted to go back rotting in their room again but it seemed like it wasn't an option now that they were here.
they were just staring at the printer as the machine does its thing, well, at least their body is. they didn't seem to hear the knocking on the door of their little office the villain provided them until they felt a tap on their shoulder.
Know That
“Oh, you just need to flip the switch over there,” Sidekick called to Hero as they made their way through the control room of Villain’s lair.
“How would you know that?” Hero spun on their heel to face Sidekick.
Sidekick froze. “Uhhh, lucky guess?”
Hero frowned. “No. It is not a lucky guess.”
And it wasn’t. Sidekick had been sneaking out every night to meet up with Villain’s Sidekick to do…things.
“You know what? I don’t want to know.” Hero flipped the switch and continued on.
Welcome to my cabin
❄︎ I'm the Snow Witch
I use She/He pronouns and I'm a lesbian
This blog is for my original writing, and sometimes I may talk about Witchcraft too
I primarily write hero x villain and whump, and will often include sapphic relationship, but this is probably not the only things I will post. Also, my writing could step into nsfw territory.
More infos ↓
WON'T WRITE :
Rape/SA
Incest/pedophilia
Heavy gore/violence just for the sake of shock value
Whumper forcing whumpee to act like a baby (I can't really explain this one, for some reason it just makes me really uncomfortable)
PREFERRED TROPES :
Med whump/lab whump
Sickfic
Environnemental whump (especially in apocalyptic settings)
Fantasy and Magic Whump
Hurt/comfort and recovery
Revenge
Hidden injury/sickness
MAY WRITE BUT ONLY UNDER SPECIFIC CIRCUMSTANCES :
Carewhumper
Homophobia and Transphobia
These rules are subject to changes
𐂂
DNI ;
If you romanticize and/or sexualize whump/abuse. My writing is for COMFORT and to let out my emotions. Some elements I will write could be things that happened to me irl and I would feel very uncomfortable to know someone think it's "hot"
If you're, obviously, Racist, Transphobic, Homophobic...etc
If you're hateful about harmless things and make fun of other for either having fun or establishing boundaries
Minors, for, as I said, I will write suggestive/nsfw. Rarely, but I'm looking out for your safety anyway
Even if it's not written in my dni, if I block you there's a reason
Thank you for taking the time to read this, enjoy your stay ❄︎
Whumptober day 1 : Race against the clock
Search party
This is a first for me to participate in this event, I’m probably not going to do it all, and not in the right order, but I will try my best to do at least a few prompts
This is a hero x villain whump
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The rain poured down heavily, even through the leaves, but the villain didn’t care. There was no time to waste. They had to find the hero no matter what. Who knew if the hero was even still alive… No, they shouldn’t have such thoughts. They have to keep their hopes up. It’s not like they were the only one searching for hero, a bunch of heroes from the agency were sent to search for them too.
So they don’t loose hope, they keep searching. The wind blew strongly forcing the villain to stop. They closed their eyes a brief instant, and once they felt the wind calm down, they looked around. Villain almost missed it. The shape of hero on the ground. Oh god they weren’t moving…
Villain bolted toward them, tripping on some tree root and falling right in front of hero’s body. They crawled to the hero, who’s face was covered with scars. Villain searched for hero’s pulse first.
« Come on, please don’t be dead, please… »
They stopped when they felt something. It was so weak, but it was here. And as much as the villain wanted to feel relief, they still had to get the hero out of this forest. They sent their position to the team of heroes.
we’ll be here in 10 minutes
10 was too much already. But the villain has no choice but to wait. They wrapped their arms around the hero, pulling them into a hug. Villain knew it wouldn’t help their body warm up, but that was the only thing they could do.
It felt like an eternity. Then villain started hearing voices despite the rain. They turned toward the sound and saw the team. They yelled as loud as possible to get their attention, picking up the hero and as they tried to get up, pain shot through their ankle. That stupid tree and its stupid root !
Luckily the team had heard the villain and ran up to them. They helped the both of them. One of the team members took hero’s body, then the sidekick wrapped an arm around villain and helped them walk. Once they reached the road, the hero was taken inside an ambulance. The wave of relief the villain felt made them realise how exhausted they were, and suddenly, everything went black…
❆
I hope you enjoyed reading
Whumptober day 6 : Not realising they’re injured
"It's not my blood."
A plan went wrong, and hero doesn’t realise that the blood on their suit might be theirs
TW : Blood, violence
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It was a simple plan : Get inside the heroes agency, take the secret files, and leave without anyone noticing. And everything would have been fine if the villain would have just listened to what the hero told them to do. At least they’re enjoying a good fight… The hero ? Not so much, those they were fighting used to be their colleagues, even thought they weren’t particularly close.
The hero used their ice powers to create a pair of ice daggers and charged at their opponents. Not that they had the intention to kill of course, the hero would only resort to that if they really needed to. It’s not like the other heroes they were fighting were particularly good. So the hero simply slashed them until they retreated.
Someone rushed at hero from behind, but before they could hurt them, the villain kicked that person hard enough to send them flying into a wall.
« You can say thank you »
The hero rolled their eyes.
« It’s your fault we’re in this situation in the first place »
The hero and the villain fended off a few more enemies that came toward them and they were now back to back. It seemed the villain was doing fine, but the hero started feeling out of breath.
« Got any of your very well anticipated escape plans ? » The hero asked.
The villain chuckled.
« Thought you could fight for longer than this »
The hero glared at them and they smirked in return. They then wrapped their arms around the hero and bird like wings appeared on their back. Hero blushed slightly, up until the moment they felt their feet were no longer touching the ground and they held on to the villain for dear life as the went straight into a window, breaking the glass as they passed through it. And of course the villain had to do a loop once they were outside.
Up in the sky, no one could reach them. They were safe. Yet, when the villain looked down at the hero, they saw sweat running down their forehead. The hero’s grip on the villain started to get weaker, something was wrong. The villain searched for the nearest building to land on and delicately laid the hero down on the roof. They kneeled down next to them.
« Hero ? »
They gave the hero a worried look when they struggled to sit up. They wiped the sweet off of their faces and looked at the villain.
« Don’t worry I’m fine » The hero said, which was followed by a cough.
Not believing what the hero told them, the villain’s gaze landed on the patches of blood on the hero’s suit.
« It’s not mine, just- ow ! »
They felt the villains hands reaching one of patch, and turns out that the hero’s suit was cut open. Well, not just the suit, but the hero’s skin too.
« Shit. Hero you’re bleeding ! » The villain exclaimed.
« Wha- Oh god… »
They looked down at their wound, how could they not see that, let alone not feel it at all until now ? The villain started to panic, not knowing what to do.
« Hero I- We should go to a hospital, I think I- »
« Villain » The hero cut them off
They stopped talking and their gaze met the hero’s.
« We can’t go to a hospital… We’ll get arrested… »
Tears formed in the villain’s eyes.
« Hero I… I’m so sorry… I should have listened to you… »
The overwhelming guilt the villain felt hit them like a train. They couldn’t believe it. The tears poured out from their eyes, and they felt the hero’s hand grab their wrist firmly.
« Villain control your emotions » the hero seemed to struggle getting the words out. « Just bring me back to my house… I have what I need to survive… »
The villain took a deep breath, nodded and then grabbed the hero’s body, this time in a bridal carry so as to keep the hero’s body in place. Once it was secured, the villain ran toward the edge of the building’s roof and threw themself off of it, their large black wings deployed, and started flying in direction of the hero’s house.
❆